


be still, my foolish heart

by oceanburned



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi, Other, asra exclusively wears the ugliest shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24338365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanburned/pseuds/oceanburned
Summary: it's modern coffee shop au time!!(apprentice) delilah definitely does not have feelings for her coworker's brother, julian. and she most certainly does not have a crush on the mysterious and beautiful asra, one of the regulars at The Tea Palace.between organising the greatly-anticipated masquerade night, running her online charm store, and attempting to get over her feelings for ex-girlfriend and current boss, nadia, she simply doesn't have the time to fall in love. but when nadia's presumed-dead ex-husband and partner in The Tea Palace returns to vesuvia, it looks like the feelings that delilah totally doesn't have are the least of her problems.(yes, every chapter is going to be a hozier lyric. yes, i am but a simple gay.)
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Asra/Julian Devorak, Portia Devorak/Nadia
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. that was my heart, the drums that start off night and day

**Author's Note:**

> just to clarify this from the beginning!! delilah is a trans woman!

"He’s not coming."

Portia leaned across the counter, slurping noisily on her iced coffee. Julian, who had bought the coffee for her, glared at her over the top of a chunky stack of papers in his hands and shushed her. Portia slurped louder.

"Just give it some time. It's still early," Delilah replied, ignoring Julian. 

It was a quiet day at Nadia's Tea Palace, just after the lunchtime rush had died down, leaving only a few students working in quiet corners of the cafe. It was slow enough that Delilah and Portia had time to make themselves drinks and go around to clean at their leisure, as long as they were done before the 4PM pick up when school kids would come flooding in. They lounged around at the front of the shop, Portia behind the counter ‘washing mugs’ and Delilah sat on a stool next to Julian on the other side, pushing a mop around in its bucket. 

The shop’s bottom floor was mostly made up of windows instead of walls, letting in warm streams of summer sunlight through the thin fabric scarves that were hung up at intervals over the glass, turning the light to various shades of rich purple and red. Next to the door, there was a clear view of the street outside, that both Portia and Delilah were keeping a close eye on. Or, were supposed to be keeping a close eye on. 

At that exact moment, Portia seemed more interested in getting on Julian’s nerves in the loudest ways possible. She slurped again, this time attracting the attention of one of the students hunched over their laptop. Smiling apologetically at them, Delilah swatted the space between Portia and Julian with her wet cloth and shushed them pointedly. Julian cringed back, cradling his papers protectively to his chest. 

"Be careful!" he crowed, "This is the newest study on the benefits of bloodletting in cases of minor influenza."

Delilah and Portia exchanged an incredulous look.

"Bloodletting?" Delilah repeated, "Remind me again how you got your medical license?"

Huffing in offence, Julian opened his mouth to explain himself, but Portia cut him off with a scoff. Flicking some of the condensation from the lid of her cup, she managed to wet the corner of one of the pages. Julian wailed. Hiding her laughter behind the lip of her mug, mostly for Julian’s sake, Delilah sipped on the latte Julian had so graciously bought for her. 

"You're all so horrible. When have I ever been so cruel to you as you are to me?" he proclaimed in an affected way, throwing his papers down on a nearby table then throwing himself dramatically over the counter. Shaking her head, Delilah patted his back.

"I'm not doing anything," she protested, smirking at Portia, "I think it's cool that you don't care about the general medical consensus." 

Julian looked up at her from where his head was stuffed in his arms, blush spreading across the highs of his cheekbones, his messy fringe falling down over one eye. Her hand fell onto his shoulder, the fabric of his lab coat rough under her palm. Delilah told herself her cheeks were only hot from her steaming latte. "Really? Why, thank you, Delilah."

"Suck-up." Portia's voice drew Delilah's gaze up from Julian. The better Devorak had retreated to the sink and was drying the already-washed mugs with a damp cloth. 

“Call me names all you want, Portia. I, personally, want to continue getting free drinks from Julian’s doctor salary.” Delilah flashed Julian a teasing smile, raising her mug in cheers. 

Over Portia’s laughter, she heard Julian say: “Is that all I am to you, Delilah?” in a mock-wounded way, hand over his heart. Before she had the chance to concede that _no, Julian, I like you for much more than your money_ , her attention was snatched by The Car pulling up on the street out front.

“Portia, shit! He’s here!” 

Delilah downed the last of her latte and jumped over the counter at the same time that Portia slammed the mug down loudly on the metal sink. She whirled around to the front door, peering eagerly over the glass cabinet of baked goods and out the window. Delilah felt her heart leap into her throat as she smoothed out her apron. There were few times that she actively liked her uniform, a rich purple polo with a hand-embroidered emblem for the Tea Palace on the left breast and a white mini-skirt (Portia wore white trousers), but even she couldn’t deny that the colour looked gorgeous on her. Nadia had such an eye for fashion. 

Delilah bared her teeth to Portia. “How do I look? Lipstick?” 

“You always look gorgeous, Delilah,” Julian said, though no one had asked him. “Can I ask what this is about?” Portia stepped forward and used a clean cloth to rub at Delilah’s front teeth. Over Portia’s head, Delilah watched The Car closely. Nothing inside moved. They had time. Portia gave Delilah another once over, then nodded approvingly. 

“Delilah has a crush on the person who’s about to come in,” Portia said, flashing Delilah a cattish smile. 

Affronted, Delilah swatted at Portia again before glancing nervously at Julian. “I do not have a crush on him. He’s just one of those customers, you know? Always comes in and orders the same thing, wears really outrageous shit…”

“Right. And you have a crush on him,” Portia insisted, picking up another mug to wash. 

“He does seem quite outrageous,” Julian said, in an unreadable voice. He was looking over his shoulder at The Car. It was a VW bus, one those hippie vans, but worse than anyone could imagine. Clashing patterns swirled across the body of the van in a way that would give anyone a headache, made infinitsmally worse by the fact that every whorl was painted, seemingly, a different, egregious, neon colour. 

“Wait ‘til you see him,” Portia chuckled, winking at Delilah. Mortified, she took one of the recycled plastic cups from the stack and started to shovel ice into the blender. She knew this order by heart: it only deviated when there was a seasonal change in the menu, at which point he would try every new option available then continue to buy his favourite for the duration of the season.

It was quiet in the cafe for all of three seconds when-

“Oh my God!” 

That was Julian. Delilah stifled a smile. A moment later, the bell on the door chimed and Delilah turned to face the counter. 

Asra was… a vision. He certainly attracted attention for someone who, as far as Delilah could tell, was quite shy. As he approached the counter, Delilah wasn’t quite what she was looking at or where to look first. He wore the most unattractive Hawaiian shirt Delilah had ever laid eyes on, neon green and yellow and pink, patterned with blobs that could have been flowers or could have been lizards. It was cropped, probably by Asra himself judging by the uneven cut just above his belly button. His jean shorts were distressed to the point of almost being more torn fabric than jeans. And then, of course, there were the crocs. Bright orange and slapping on the wooden floor. Delilah thought she might have a stroke just looking at him. 

“Is that a snake?” Julian asked, drawing Delilah’s attention to him. The plain white of his lab coat relaxed the building headache behind her eyes.

Asra glanced at him as if only just noticing it wasn’t just Delilah and Portia in the cafe with him. “Yeah. Say hi, Faust,” he said, holding out his arm where a lavender snake was indeed wrapped around him. Faust’s tongue flicked the air curiously beside Julian, but he cringed back a little. 

“Can’t,” he said, “Sorry. I’m wearing my uniform.” Delilah didn’t quite believe that was the only reason Julian was sitting on the very edge of his seat, but she didn’t say anything. Asra shrugged and hopped up onto the stool beside Julian. He pulled one foot up onto the stool with him, exposing the disgusting shoe to the two behind the counter.

“You’re a doctor?” Asra asked, politely, resting his cheek on his knee. 

Julian nodded, his eyes narrowed as he inspected Asra. Probably because it hurt to look at him directly. “I have a clinic in South End. You?”

“I’m a magician,” Asra shrugged, glancing at Delilah briefly. “And I have an Etsy store.” 

Portia and Delilah shared a look with Julian, who, to his credit, only raised one eyebrow. Trying to hold back a blush, Delilah hurried out, “The usual, right, Asra?” 

Sitting up a little straighter, Asra nodded, smiling warmly. “Thank you, Lilah.” He looked at Julian out of the corner of his eye, “Uh, I never got your name.”

“That’s Portia’s brother, Doctor Julian Devorak,” Delilah introduced, hesitantly, unsure if it was her place. If it wasn’t, Julian didn’t seem to mind. He shook hands with Asra, his leather gloves shining in the sunlight.

“Nice to meet you…” 

“Asra Alnazar. Nice to meet you.”

Delilah didn’t bother to hide the smile that warmed her lips as she mixed up Asra’s regular luminous pink iced coffee. While she worked, Portia’s made up the hot chocolate that accompanied Asra’s drink. While the ice blended, Delilah bagged up chocolate muffin and put it down on the counter in front of Asra. She lingered a moment to let Faust sniff her hand, and when she tried to turn back to the blender, Asra grabbed her wrist. He looked a little surprised that he had done it, dropping his grip as quickly as he had taken it up.

“Uh, your eyeshadow,” he said, blushing furiously, averting his eyes. “It looks really nice. I like it.” 

It took everything Delilah had in her not to start jumping around in joy right there and then. In fact, it was nothing short of a miracle that she managed a very dignified, “Thanks. I like your choker” in response. As soon as her back was to Asra, she let the massive smile she had been holding back take over her face. Portia nudged her with her shoulder, wiggling her eyebrows. Delilah put the two cups and the paper bag on the table in front of Asra, hoping she didn’t look as shy as she felt. Asra deposited a ten dollar note on the table and pulled a few coins from his radioactive-yellow fanny pack. He held out the coins in the centre of his palm, looking around at Portia, Julian, and Delilah to ensure they were paying attention. Then, he closed his palm, shook his fist three times, and opened his hand. No coins clattered to the table. Julian’s mouth dropped open. 

“How did you-?” he spluttered.

Asra tapped the tip of his nose, sweeping up his order in his arms and tossing the vanished coins into the tip mug. “Told you; I’m a magician. See you later, ladies, Julian.” With a bow, Asra hopped down off the stool and made his escape. A bulky shadow opened the door to The Car for him and he tumbled into the driver’s side, disappearing. 

A beat of silence passed after Asra left, in which Julian remained looking stunned, Delilah collapsed onto the counter with a furious blush, and Portia looked over them both with a half-exasperated, half-amused sigh. 

Breaking from his reverie of shock, Julian put his gloved hand on Delilah’s arm. “Now I see why you’re wearing that,” he said, grinning salaciously. If it was possible, Delilah blushed even more. She tugged her arm from Julian’s grip and went back to wiping down the counter.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she retorted, primely. Julian’s raised eyebrow said more than any words could. Of course she knew what he was talking about. 

“Your eyes,” Julian said, taking her arm again and pulling her towards him. Their faces were only a few inches apart, Julian staring meaningfully at her eyes. Delilah swallowed hard, trying not to blush at how close he was. He was truly so shameless… But she understood why. She’d put on some disgustingly bright, and totally out of character, eyeshadow in the same leopard print style that Asra had worn as a crop-top the last time he came to the Tea Palace. It had taken two hours and three attempts to perfect, and she hadn’t even been sure that Asra would notice. But he had. And he’d liked it.

“You don’t like it?” she asked Julian, once her face had returned to its usual colour. 

Julian held her there for a few seconds longer, then shrugged languidly. “I already said you always look gorgeous, Delilah.” He swung up from his stool and grabbed his papers from the table. “Anyway, I must be on my way. Lunch break’s almost over!” He shoved the papers messily in his travel bag and downed the rest of his coffee before taking Delilah’s hand and kissing it. He leaned over the counter, grabbed Portia by the back of the neck, and dragged her over to kiss her forehead too. 

“Bye, Julian!” Delilah called to his back as he retreated to the door. 

“Later, Ilya. You coming to Mazelinka’s tonight?”

Julian spun around with an affronted scoff, putting his hand over his heart. “Would I ever miss family dinner?” With that, he was out the door. 

Delilah and Portia exchanged a look. “Well, that was eventful,” Delilah said, passing Portia to wash up her cup. With a sideways glance, she looked at the clock. Another hour until the 4PM rush. They certainly had some time to kill… “Want to play Go Fish with my tarot deck?” 

Portia perked up instantly, rushing around the counter to clear one of the nearby tables. “Do I ever!”

Delilah lost three times in a row, her thoughts still stuck with Asra’s hand as it had latched onto her wrist.


	2. raise 'em on rhythm and blues

By the time Julian arrived, The Tea Palace was a mess. Ribbons of fabric in all different colours were thrown across the floor, the backs of chairs, hanging off of tables. Fat pillar candles lined the counter on patterned metal dishes, some burning, some burnt out. Instead of baked goods in the glass cabinet at the front of the shop, the shelves were stacked with wooden masquerade masks. Julian shucked off his overcoat and hung it up on one of the pegs beside the door, eyeing the room suspiciously. Portia lay on the floor in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of tables that had been rearranged to leave a huge space in the middle of the floor. Her head was in Nadia’s lap as she held up a scrap of emerald fabric to the hanging lights. Across from them, Delilah sat cross-legged on a table, trying hopelessly to stitch on a plumped cushion.

“Sorry I’m late,” Julian said, stepping exaggeratedly over a bundle of pastel pink tulle. “I see preparations for the Masquerade are well underway.” 

Nadia glanced over her shoulder at him, pressing a delicate hand to her temple. “Good evening, Julian. I should think that if I have to look at another yard of fabric in my life, I might lose my head.” 

Portia threw her handful of fabric down onto the floor with a groan. “You think? I know I will,” she said, pressing her face into Nadia’s hip. Nadia chuckled, stroking the hair back from Portia’s forehead affectionately. 

The Masquerade had been Nadia’s idea- mostly. Before he had disappeared three years ago, Nadia had owned The Tea Palace jointly with her then-husband Lucio Morgasson. Lucio, known around Vesuvia by his stage name Count Lucio, also owned several night clubs. One of the only good ideas he had ever had was to bring one of his club nights over to the cafe: what he called The Masquerade. The Tea Palace would open its doors from 8PM to 6AM for the duration of a weekend, with live music, fresh food, and themed evenings where all of the entrees would have to come wearing a mask. Delilah had never actually been to one of the Masquerades- after Lucio had disappeared, the Masquerades stopped- but people around town still told tales of them three years later. 

So, Nadia had decided to bring them back with a bang. Delilah, Portia, and Nadia had been working overtime to make sure the first of the rebranded Masquerades was going to be as spectacular and memorable as any of Lucio’s parties. It was not as simple as they had expected. Case in point: the current task of deciding a colour pallet and fabrics to cover the walls and separate out the rooms. There was so much fabric, Delilah had to agree that it was enough to drive anyone out of their mind.

While Nadia cooed over her exhausted girlfriend, Julian made his way over to Delilah. Since they’d been working late nights and Julian was often late at the clinic, he had been driving Delilah and Portia (when she wasn’t staying with Nadia) back to their apartment on his way home. Something Delilah was endlessly grateful for, considering she couldn’t drive and Portia spent a lot of time at Nadia’s penthouse. As he approached, Delilah looked up from her futile attempt at sewing on the pillow to flash him an exhausted smile. Julian ruffled her hair, placing one hand just behind her back and leaning over her shoulder. She could feel his hair brushing at the back of her neck with how close he was. 

“Having fun?” he asked, voice barely a breath above the low hum of haunting string music Nadia had playing from one of the corners of the room, citing that it would help build the atmosphere. 

“You know I’m not,” Delilah sighed, stabbing her needle into the pillow and tossing it down onto the table beside her. Julian let out a breath of laughter. “You’re a doctor, don’t you have to know how to sew? Help me out, won’t you?”

“I wish I could, my darling Delilah. While I might be able to sew up a wound, I certainly can’t _embroider_.” He mock-shuddered, taking up the cushion to examine her handiwork. He had to hold it up to the hanging light over their head in order to see. Night had fully bloomed, and Delilah had pulled down the shutters on the window-walls of the cafe. The only light was a subtle, rose-tinted glow from a number of faux-candelabras that hung down the centre of the room. It was great for creating the relaxing, almost magical atmosphere of the Palace in the evenings, but after the cafe closed? It was hell to clean by. 

“What do you think?” Delilah asked, leaning back a little so her shoulder brushed against Julian’s chest. She felt him jump and when she looked up at him, blinking innocently, she could tell it wasn’t only the rosy light that was making his skin blush. “Am I doing a good job?”

Julian swallowed, fingers tightening minutely around the rim of the cushion. “I must say, the detailing is-uh- quite intricate.” 

Snorting, Delilah hopped down off the table and stretched out her back. A low groan escaped her throat as she rolled her shoulders, having been hunched over the cushion for nearly two hours. Julian sidled up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders and squeezing in a half-baked sort of massage. Smiling at him over her shoulder, Delilah slipped out of his grip and made her way over to the counter. 

“Well, since my ride is here, I’m gonna head off. You coming, Portia?” Delilah said over her shoulder. She didn’t hear Portia’s reply as she slipped into the backroom and fumbled around trying to find the table without turning on the light. Somehow she managed to hang her apron up on the far wall and fished her bag out from under another pile of fabric, Portia’s coat, and other assorted items on the table. On the way out, she stubbed her toe on a stray chair left out in the middle of the room. 

Hopping on one foot, Delilah reemerged into the main room. Only Julian looked up, lips quirked in amusement. He was leaning on the table where Delilah had been sat, twisting a piece of pastel green tulle around his hand like a glove. He was still wearing his scrubs but, to be fair, he was nearly always wearing his scrubs. Delilah was starting to worry he didn’t actually have any other clothes.

When she was close enough, he held out his arm for her bag, which she gratefully crooked in his elbow. Portia still lay in Nadia’s lap, in the same position she had been for the past hour and a half. Clearly, she and Nadia were going home together. Not that Delilah minded. She was getting used to having the apartment to herself. 

“Ready, darling?” Julian asked. Nodding, Delilah took up the pillow she’d been embroidering, removed the needle, and shoved the thread into the pocket of her polo. 

“Yeah, let’s go. I’ll finish this at home, Nadia.” She waved to Portia and Nadia with the pillow as Julian led the way across the room, patting himself down to try and find his car keys. As she stepped past, Portia grabbed Delilah’s leg, jerking her to a halt. “Trying to see up my skirt?” Delilah teased. 

Clicking her tongue, Portia shook her head. “Just wanted to make sure you knew I was staying with Nadia tonight,” she said, emphatically. “So you’ll be home alone. If you want.” Portia punctuated her very heavy-handed talk with a series of stage-winks that devolved into blinking with how fast she was winking. Delilah huffed, shaking her head and shaking Portia’s grip free. 

“Good _bye_ , Portia!” 

Julian was waiting at the door, holding it open for her. Amusement turned the corner of his lips sharp. After he called a goodbye to his sister and Nadia, he closed the door and slung an arm around Delilah’s shoulders. It was utterly dark but for the flickering light of the street lamps. Their merged shadows followed them, enlarged and stretched across the front of the buildings made unfamiliar by darkness. “What was that about?” Julian asked, guiding her to the edge of the street. He must have checked the empty road about thirty times before he finally let them cross the street to his car. Ever the gentleman, he opened the passenger side door for her and leaned down to her eye-level in the open doorway. He cut a narrow, pointed silhouette in the frame of the car. “With Pasha?”

“You know what it was about,” Delilah replied, a little pout forming on her lips. She threw the pillow over her shoulder into the backseat. 

Before Delilah had met either Portia or Nadia, she had met Julian. It would have been a rather regrettable one night stand if Delilah hadn’t run into him the next day. Apparently, he ran the clinic that her gender therapist worked out of. After that night, it had been almost impossible not to run into Julian on at least a weekly basis, and what would have been a slightly unfortunate night with a really handsome stranger had turned into something more. Though they’d never actually dated or slept together after that night, it didn’t stop Portia from acting like every time they were alone together it was a massive scandal.

Julian chuckled, slapping the roof of the car. “Oh, Pasha. She loves the drama of it all.” 

“I wonder where she got it from…” Delilah teased. Julian let out a bark of laughter, slamming her door shut and then tossing her bag into the backseat with the pillow. 

The first thing he did when he got in the car was check all the mirrors, then check himself out in the rear view. Delilah watched him as he went through his usual ritual, checking his seatbelt twice, fishing around in the glove compartment through a number of cassettes, putting on some cool jazz. He could never drive without jazz. As always, he waited for the click of Delilah’s seatbelt to start the car, and he tugged on it for himself to make sure it was on properly. 

“Can never be too careful,” he said, like he always did, “Now, let me just-” 

Like always, the car stalled. Delilah pressed her forehead to the cool glass of the window and swallowed down a grin. 

The car ride to Delilah’s apartment was quiet, but comfortably so. Unlike at every other moment of his life, Julian was quiet while he was driving, concentrating solely on the road. The only sign that he was even aware of his in-car surroundings was the drum of his fingers against the wheel, in time to the swing of the jazz. And, every now and then, at red lights she would catch him looking at her in the reflection on the window. Bathed in the stoplight, his hair was cast a more vibrant red, his cheeks no longer dusted in a blush but drowning in one. It was a battle not to smile at him.

They reached Delilah and Portia’s apartment just over thirty minutes later. If Portia had been driving it would have easily only been twenty, but Julian was a very cautious driver. Keeping with his gentlemanly demeanour, Julian opened the car door for her, and carried her bag and pillow up to the apartment for her. While they walked up the four flights (the lift hadn’t worked in the two years Delilah had lived there), Julian hummed the last track that had been playing in the car. If his arms weren't full, Delilah was sure he would have swept her up into a dance. 

Once they reached her door, Julian stood close behind her as she unlocked it and stepped inside. It took the ceiling light a few long seconds to come to its full, albeit still fairly dim, brightness, but Delilah knew the apartment by dark. Julian lingered in the doorway as Delilah picked her way across the main room towards the kitchenette. “You can just throw my bag on the sofa, Julian.” Despite what she thought was an obvious invitation, he still hovered at the corner of her eye in the doorway. Rolling her eyes affectionately, Delilah flipped the switch on her kettle and called out to Julian again. “Do you want to come in? Coffee?” 

As if he had been shocked, Julian flinched into the apartment. Looking around owlishly, he placed her bag down on the coffee table and the half-finished pillow on the top of another cushion. He perched on the edge of the sofa, blushing. “I really shouldn’t stay, Delilah.”

“Shouldn’t? Or can’t?” Delilah waggled her eyebrows at him, lifting up a pair of mugs. Hesitation flashed across Julian’s face for a split second before he shook his head, definitively. As if shaking himself from a dream. 

“I really have to leave. But… thank you for the offer, darling.” Resigned, Delilah put down Julian’s mug and began to raid the cabinets for teabags. She heard him get up, his boots scuffing on the carpet- she decided not to chastise him for wearing shoes in her apartment.

“Anytime,” she said, ducking her head into one of the cupboards as he approached. She hoped he couldn't tell in her voice that she was just a little disappointed.

When she emerged, a box of Sleepytime tea richer, Julian was leaning against the counter, resting his head on one of the cabinet doors. He looked truly exhausted. His scrubs were rumpled, his coat hanging loosely over his back in crisp, sharp lines that only exaggerated the unkemptness of his hair and clothes. Avoiding eye contact, Julian ran his finger around the rim of the mug that would have been his. 

“Anytime?” he repeated, slowly. He looked pointed anywhere but at Delilah. “So I can reschedule this little… rendezvous?” 

Delilah took the opportunity of pouring the hot water to mull over the question. It was one thing for her to offer Julian a coffee after he drove her home. It was a completely other thing for him to be invited over, out of his way, for coffee. The question really was: did she want a rendezvous with Julian? Delilah stirred the tea bag.

“When you're free... You know where to find me.” It wasn't quite a yes but it certainly wasn't a no. 

Julian’s lips quirked, eye narrowing like he had been challenged, like he was about to do something ill-advised. It was the same look he’d given her when they'd first met, from opposite sides of a crowded dance floor, over the heads of the other dancers. Delilah thought she might be giving him the same look back. They met eyes for just a second.

Then, Julian was stepping back, almost tripping on a pile of books that had built up in the middle of the floor. Delilah snorted behind the rim of her mug. “Until tomorrow,” he said, giving an exaggerated salute, Though he seemed perfectly ready to leave, he lingered again in the doorway. There looked to be something else he wanted to say, his lips quivered with the anticipation of it, but he didn't say anything more.

“You need to stop coming to the coffee shop on all your breaks,” Delilah called after him, to fill the silence. The tea steamed her cheeks to a light red. “I'm starting to worry about you.” 

That devious, charming grin split apart Julian’s face again. “Oh, darling, as you should.”


End file.
